


The Beginning of the End

by You_make_me_smile



Series: A Long Story For Another Time [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Hates Witches, Dean Loves Pie, Demons, F/M, Friendship/Love, Magic, POV Second Person, Sam's Hair, Supernatural Hunting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3858178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/You_make_me_smile/pseuds/You_make_me_smile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day you met the Winchesters was one that was unexpected and bloody. Well it was unexpected for you given how predictable your life had become as of late. Five days working twelve hour shifts at the local hospital, four days spent hunting the supernatural within a two day radius from Sioux Falls. On the other hand it was bloody for the Winchester brothers, at least for Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for choosing to read this. Eventually this story will connect with Lavender's Blue and the history of your relationship with the Winchester boys will be explained.

The day you met the Winchesters was one that was unexpected and bloody. Well it was unexpected for you given how predictable your life had become as of late. Five days working twelve hour shifts at the local hospital, four days spent hunting the supernatural within a two day radius from Sioux Falls. On the other hand it was bloody for the Winchester brothers, at least for Dean.

*********

Your cell phone rang as you finished taking a patient’s blood pressure. Carefully, you set the pressure cuff back on its hook before looking back at the patient. You glanced quickly at the number before looking back at the elderly lady in bed beside you.

_How am I going to make this believeable?_

The picture sitting on window ledge caught your eye of her grandchildren and you sighed in relief.

“Excuse me Mrs. Rodriguez.” You smiled apologetically. “My little boys are at the babysitter’s while I’m at work and I had to leave the youngest one with a fever. Do you mind if I answer this?”

Mrs. Rodriguez gave you a toothless smile; her dentures sitting in a cup beside the hospital bed. “Go ahead dearie.”

“I’ll send Maria in to finish up with your blood tests.” You said, tossing a grateful smile over your shoulder at her. Stopping at the door, you pulled the cell phone out of your pocket and answered it. “Talk to me Bobby.” You whispered, watching through the door’s window, ensuring that no one was going to overhear the conversation.

“I’ve got two hunters at the house. One of them is hurt pretty bad.” Bobby voice’s gruff voice came through the speaker.

“How bad?” You asked, shifting your weight to the other foot, praying that Bobby would be quick; some of Mrs. Rodriguez’s family were coming down the hall.

“He’s got some pretty deep cuts on his back and has lost a lot of blood. It’s beyond my skill to patch him up.” Came the reply. You listened to the intonation of his voice and tried to deduce the seriousness of the situation. Bobby’s voice was tight with concern and sounded a little gruffer than usual. It was pretty bad then.

You glanced at your watch and mentally calculated out the distance between the hospital and Bobby’s house. Your shift was over in five minutes and if you managed to get out on time, you could be there in half an hour. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Stop the bleeding Bobby.” You said before pocketing the phone just as the first family member reached the door. You opened the door for them and greeted them cordially.

“Good morning.” You said, plastering the standard welcoming smile on your face. “Just finished up with your mom’s tests and everything looks good. Another nurse will be in a minute to check her potassium levels.”

“Thank you so much. We weren’t sure if she was going to recover.” Her daughter murmured, taking your hand. You glanced worriedly down at the contact before looking back at her. “The doctors weren’t even sure.”

“Well your momma is a fighter and she has a lot to live for.” You said, praying the woman would let go of your hand soon. She seemed to sense you that you were uncomfortable with the prolonged touch and let go of your hand after one final squeeze. You gave her a small smile as she turned to her mother.

Heaving a sigh, you stepped out into the hallway, wiping your hand on the blue fabric of your scrubs. You caught a glimpse of thick, brown head of hair disappearing down the hall and you walked quickly to catch up to the woman.

“Maria, are you busy?” You asked, glancing up at the clock; twenty five minutes to get to Bobby’s. The brunette looked up at you with dark, brown eyes and shook her head. “Would you be able to do Mrs. Rodriguez’s blood tests? The doctor wants us to keep an eye on her potassium levels.”

“Sure thing.” Maria said, looking back down the hall to the room you had just come out of. “Just as long as the younger son didn’t show up. He gives me the creeps.” You gave her a sympathetic smile. Maria was a fairly attractive woman and she was often being hit on either by the patients or their families.

“He didn’t come today. Just the sister and older brother.” You informed her. “Look I have to get going but I should see you tomorrow. And thanks for doing that for me.”

“Get some rest.” Maria replied with a blossoming smile, “No offense but you look like crap.”

“You try fending off Mr. Elser’s groping hands well you are trying to change his bandages.” You joked.

“Don’t remind me. He’s my next on my rounds.” Maria replied with a grimace. “Now get out of here.” You laughed, bidding her good luck before gathering your things at the nurse’s station and striding quickly down the hallway. You pushed the door to the stairwell open and nimbly ran down each flight of stairs, trying to make up for the time you lost talking to Maria and the Rodriguez family. Reaching the ground floor, you took a deep breath and pushed open the door, looking as calm as possible. Making sudden movements and looking panic caused worry and hysteria in the people visiting the hospital. Finally you reached your black Jeep and wrenched the door open, tossing your bag and jacket into the passenger seat. Turning the key, the engine roared to life and the heavy guitar chords of Whitestripe blared through the speakers. You threw the vehicle into gear and peeled out the parking lot.

*******

Pulling up beside Bobby’s old tow truck, you looked around, noticing a dusty, black Impala parked closer the house. You reached into the back seat and pulled up an old leather case and a 9mm Beretta hand gun. The former had the power to heal whereas the latter had to power to kill if needed. You also grabbed a clip of silver bullets just in case. You opened the Jeep door and approached the house, your gun ready. Bobby was waiting at the door, leaning against the weathered door frame.

“You told me half an hour.” He called across the yard and you quickened your pace to reach him.

“What can I say? I have a lead foot.” You shrugged with a smirk on your face.

“Don’t remind me.” Bobby grimaced at the memory. You stepped through the door and looked around the room. Books and papers were stacked haphazardly around the room some piles as tall as you. Dishes were piled on the counter and empty beer bottles sat in a bin beside the door. The old appliances had seen better days; quieter ones without rust spots and loud whirring noises as the motors struggled to maintain their purpose. You notice the drops of blood on the floor leading in the dining room.

“How bad is he?” You asked watching Bobby’s reaction to the question. His lips thinned and you noted the worry in his eyes. “Can you grab the salve from the still room?” Bobby nodded and turned to the stairs He paused, his hand on the railing and foot on the first step.

“You won’t be needing that. He wasn’t bit.” Bobby gestured at your gun. You looked sheepish and went to tuck it into your waist band before remembering that you were wearing scrubs. Setting the gun on top of an open book by the window, you looked back at the older hunter.

“You can never be too careful.” You muttered and you heard Bobby chuckle as he continued up the stairs. You followed the blood, the iron smell growing stronger as you got closer to the room. The two men looked up as you stepped into the dining room and you were struck at how attractive they were. The man sitting hunched on the table had electric green eyes, dulled with pain and short, ruffled hair that looked like he ran his hands through it frequently. He wore biker boots, well-fitted jeans and a blood soaked shirt. You looked at the taller one, taking in his long, brown hair and warm, hazel eyes. There were dark circles under his eyes and his face was etched with barely hidden concern. There was a small nick about his right eyebrow. Crossing the threshold, you set your case on the table beside the man sitting there.

“So gentlemen, how did this happen?” You asked in a no nonsense tone. They glanced at each other for a second and you saw the silent conversation occur between them.

“Hunting.” The man on the table answered, his voice smooth despite the pain in it. His hands griped the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles were white. You stepped around the table and let out a low whistle at the damage you saw. The shirt hung in tattered shreds, soaked with blood. The skin underneath the remains of the shirt didn’t look much better. There was a diamond pattern carved his back, laying the skin open to the muscles in some areas. You counted the outer edge of the pattern, noting ten clearly defined marks. Two swipes from a werewolf then.

“What were you hunting?” You asked, lifting the hem of the shirt away from his neck and looking for puncture marks. You let the shirt go finding nothing but well-defined shoulder and neck muscles. You came back to stand in front the men, rummaging in your case for some antiseptic and gauze pads.

“Grizzly bears.” The man in front of you grunted. You looked at his face for a moment before returning to you task.

“Mountain lions.” The other said at the same time. From the corner of your eye, you saw them exchange looks and the younger one rolled his eyes before looking away.

“My younger brother was mistaken. We were hunting bear up just past the ski resort.” He attempted a smirk but faded away almost as quickly as it came.

_Liar_. You thought setting the items on the table.

“Bears can be pretty dangerous when provoked.” You said, “Although I have never known one to make marks like that.” You pulled out a pair of heavy scissors and put them on top of the unwrapped gauze packs.

“Perhaps it was mountain lions.” He corrected with a bit of a laugh, “I am feeling a bit hazy right now.”

“Hardly surprising.” You replied with a straight face. “You’ve lost quite a bit of blood.” You looked up as Bobby entered the room, a large ceramic pot in his hands. You stepped closer to Bobby and he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“When are you going to stop playing them?” You could hear the smile in his voice. “When they can’t twist the truth any longer.” You replied, taking the needle and penicillin from him.

“Could you get me some water, towels and some whisky?” Bobby raised an eyebrow at the mention of whisky.

“For when I’m done Bobby. He’s probably going to want some,” You motioned to the man on the table, “And I will most definitely want some.”

Without a word, Bobby once again left the room and you returned to the man on the table. “I am going to have to get that shirt off of you sir.” You picked up the scissors.

“I don’t even know your name yet.” He said again with that half smirk. “But if you wanted to skip the introductions, I would be okay with that.” You couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped from your throat as you slipped the scissors into the sleeve of the t-shirt and started to cut. Within seconds, the shirt was off and laying a bloodied heap on the table top. You could feel the man shiver slightly as the air ghosted over his naked skin; the muscles tensing in his shoulders and back. He let out a low groan, slumping forward as he clung to consciousness. If it hadn’t been for his partner, the man might have fallen off the table. Bobbi returned with the water and clean towels, the neck of a whisky bottle in between his fingers. He moved as fast as he could without spilling the water.

“I need you to lay him down on the table, stomach down.” You barked, moving your case from the table and dropping it onto a chair. Bobby took the man’s legs and swung them onto the table as the other hunter gently turned his upper body so he on his stomach. You grimaced as bloody started oozing slowly from the deep cuts. “Son of a bitch.” You muttered.

“We haven’t even been on a first date doll. Not that I mind the kinky bit.” The man uttered to the table, his voice cracking as Bobbi and his partner turned him over.

“I’ll have to take a rain check on that buddy.” You replied, as you dabbed gingerly at the blood on his back with a wet cloth. “I’ll need you to put some pressure on the cuts that have started bleeding.” You thrust a several gauze pads at the hunter. He looked bewildered for a moment, glancing at you and then the items in his hand. You felt your patience ebbing away as your twelve hour shift at the hospital and the inaction of the man in front of you began to take its toll. “Do you want him to bleed to death?” You snapped. “Take the gauze from the packet, layer it and put it here.”

Finally, the man moved at the annoyance in your voice. You heard Bobby murmur something to the young hunter and the man scoffed in reply. You shut them out and focused on the cuts, studying the depth and shape of them. You didn’t need the cloth or the water but you needed the motions as a cover for what you were truly doing. Your hands began to tingle and flow through your fingertips into the man’s back. You encouraged the muscles to reknit themselves, reminding them how they used to be; how supple they were and how they moved move under the tanned skin. You caught Bobby looking in your direction and you gave him a hard stare. Abruptly, you ended the flow of magic from your hands and wrung out the bloodied cloth.

“Sam, we’re going to need some clean water.” He said quietly, trying to seem as if he didn’t want to interrupt you. You felt surprise ripple through your body as Bobby whispered the hunter’s name. These were the Winchester boys that John and Bobby had talked about during the hunts. Family resemblance obliviously did not run in the bloodline although you couldn’t deny that each of the Winchester men were appealing in their own way. If Sam was standing beside you, you must be working on Dean.

Sam picked up the bowl from the table and left the room without complaint. You removed the gauze from the man’s lower back and saw that the bleeding had stopped.

“Are you daft?” Bobby hissed after he heard the water running in the kitchen.

“Not now.” You growled, inclining you head towards the older Winchester who groaned as he stirred. Bobby closed his mouth and readied the needle and thread for the stitches that Dean desperately required. Sam set the bowl by your elbow and watched you with troubled eyes.

“He’ll be okay, Sam. Werewolves are not the nicest things but you got him here in time.” You murmured, lining the skin up the best you could. You avoided looking at him but you feel the curiosity hanging in the air.

“How did,” Sam licked his lips, “How did you know it was a werewolf?” You pierced the skin and began to neatly stitch up the first laceration. Sam winced at the needle dipping under the skin.

“I have to give you guys some credit. You know the wildlife around here but cuts caused by a mountain lion only have four marks that run parallel to each other. Grizzly bears claws do leave five marks but the cuts are deeper and wider than the ones on his back. It probably would have laid his entire back open to the bone. Werewolves on the other hand, leave five marks that vary in depth, often the second and middle cut being the deepest. The cuts don’t have any standard spacing between them.” You tied up the thread and began on the next gash. Sam shifted beside you as he took in the information you had just given him.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He said quietly. You laughed softly, the needle moving at the steady pace.

 

“I guess I didn’t.”

Dean shifted with a groan, struggling to get up. The table creaked under him and for moment you were afraid that it would break as it wobbled. “He’s bloody stubborn.” You said, trying to keep the needle and thread from tearing through the skin. “Can’t he just pass out like a normal person?”

Sam quickly moved over and squatted beside Dean’s head while Bobby held Dean’s shoulders down.

“Hey Dean.” Sam said with a small smile.

“Sammy. What’s going on? Why do I feel like I’ve been whipped seven ways from Sunday?” Dean asked groggily.

“You’ve got a nurse patching up your back, man.” Sam replied, shifting his weight. From the angle, you were standing at you could see the corner of Dean’s lips quirk up. “She’s going to need you to stop moving around.”

“She’s hot right?” Dean asked as his body relaxed. You rolled your eyes and resumed your stitching as Bobby relaxed his grip on Dean. Sam continued to talk quietly to Dean, easing any anxiety about the fact that he was face down on Bobby’s dining room table with a strange nurse sewing up his back. You finally finished and cut the thread. Sam rose out of his crouch with a soft groan and flexed his shoulders. Bobby brought you clean water to wash away rest of the blood on Dean’s back. With a glance from you, Bobby made some excuse about Sam looking over a case he was putting together.

With a sigh, you cleaned your hands before opening the ceramic pot. The strong smell of lavender mingled with the iron smell of the blood in the room and you drew a deep breath, mentally preparing for the next part of the healing process. Carefully, you applied the salve to Dean’s cuts, making sure each laceration was covered evenly. As you worked, you once drew upon the magic and coaxed it back down your fingers and into the damaged skin. You imagined the skin perfect and whole without pain, redness and infection. Finally, the last of the salve had been applied and the magic faded into a memory, you felt your muscles go limp. Grabbing at the table, you managed to keep yourself upright those your limbs quivered with effort. “Bobby!” You called, knowing that this time, you had over extended yourself. A vision interrupted the view in front of you, and unable to protect your mind from the pain, your knees buckled. You felt the room slip sideways, the floor coming up to meet you. Suddenly, you found strong arms wrapping themselves around you and through the pain you heard Sam’s voice.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”


	2. A Hunting We Will Go

You gasped, flailing against the restraints on your arms. Your heart and mind were racing as the vision began to fade from view.

“Let me go!” You cried, twisting violently away from whatever was holding you. Your eyesight was blurry and you felt confused and disoriented.

“Okay I’m going to let you go now.” A concerned voice floated down to your ears as you continued to struggle. The restraints disappeared and you rolled onto the cool wooden floor of Bobby’s dining room. You blinked several times as the table legs and dust bunnies that occupied the space around them became more defined. Hurriedly you pushed yourself to your feet and stumbled across the room before catching yourself on the door frame. You stood there for a moment with your chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. If you hadn’t been leaning on the door frame, you were sure that you probably would have been on the floor. You jumped as Bobby put his calloused hand on your shoulder.

“What is it? What did you see?” Bobby asked in a low whisper. You shook your head, refusing to answer his question. You rarely shared your visions with people because frankly, they scared you and it seemed that every time you talked about a vision, the more likely it was to come to pass. You glanced over your shoulder to find a pair of bewildered hazel eyes watching your movements. Glancing back at the wall, you swallowed hard. Having visions were nothing new; you had been having them on and off for several months now although the content varied from mildly comforting to downright disturbing.  There was a particular one that continued to reoccur and each time you could pick out new details. A vision, far in your future, had been becoming clearer each passing day; you were pregnant, curled up with a man whose facial features were distorted and hazy on a couch you didn’t recognize. When you collapsed, the vision reappeared and all the details were there. You looked down at a world weary face complete with day old stubble, an easy smile and sad hazel eyes that seemed to peer into your soul. This same man was watching you from across the room.

 _NO!_ You shouted silently to the universe. _I will not have you control my destiny._

“_________?” Bobby asked again, calling you back to the present. You let go of the door frame with trembling hands and headed down the hallway to the door. Your intention was to put as much room as possible between you and Sam.

“Are you okay?” A large hand caught your wrist and you resisted the urge to immediately pull it from Sam’s grasp. The minuscule remnants of your magic stirred in your hand and you could feel it moving towards the fingers that curled around your wrist.

_It’s a stupid cut. He’s not dying!_

“I’m fine.” You said through gritted teeth, willing the magic to stop moving. The magic refused and you watched as the cut on Sam’s face knit shut. “Kindly remove your hand from my personage.”

“You just had vision, a premonition.” It wasn’t a question and you could tell from Sam’s face that he didn’t mean to let go until he had an answer. There was a look of distress in his eyes and you wondered if he had the same visions as you did. You felt your heart quicken as his sad eyes stared into yours.

“Nope. “ The lie slid easily past your lips before you could stop it. The longer you looked into his eyes the more you wanted to tell Sam the truth but the desire for free will won out. “It’s just a migraine. I get them when I am overtired.” You finished, tearing your eyes off his face.

“I think you’re lying.” Sam said quietly and you felt shock ripple through you. You carefully school your features into a look of cheekiness.

“You will never know Sammy my lad. Now kindly let go of my wrist before I break your hand.” You looked meaningfully down at his hand and he quickly withdrew it. You turned away from him and reflectively rubbed your wrist where you could still feel Sam’s fingers. Changing the subject, you quickly turned back to face him.

“Please tell me you killed the werewolf that did this.”

The look that came over Sam’s features made you sigh inwardly. You had been hoping to drop into your bed after this and sleep for the next couple days. You could certainly use it after several months of a ceaseless cycle of hunting and working.

“About that…” Sam started, scratching the back of his neck in an embarrassed manner. You pinched the bridge of your nose before turning and headed back to the kitchen to retrieve your gun. Judging by the footsteps behind you, Sam had followed you.

“So you didn’t kill it.” You said to clarify what he didn’t say. You unlocked the clip and slid it out, counting the silver bullets inside.

“Yeah I managed it between running through a dark forest and dragging my brother.” Sam said snapped sarcastically. You opened your mouth to respond when Bobby and the older Winchester appeared in the doorway. Dean fell against the frame with a groan and Bobby emptied the bowl of bloodied water he was carrying into the sink.

“Bobby, what is he doing up?” You hissed.

‘I reckon unless you plan on shooting him up with some tranqs, he’s not going to take the bedrest thing seriously.” Bobby said with a chuckle. After a withering glance from you, he added, “I wasn’t going to wrestle him back down on the table. Wouldn’t want to rip those stitches open.”

 “What in the blazes of hell are you doing up?” You asked, borrowing one of Bobby’s frequent phrases. “You should be in bed or at least back on that table.”

“That’s the second time you’ve hit on me since you’ve got here.” Dean with a half-hearted smirk.

“One more remark like that and I will actually hit you.” You replied as you mentally ran over your inventory in the trunk of your jeep. A thought occurred to you causing the gun to nearly slip from your hand.

“Where were you hunting?” You asked struggling to keep the panic out of your voice.

“In the woods behind the ski resort. There were lots of reports from local rangers that deer and bear were found torn apart. If you run the dates of occurrences, they all happen around a full moon.” Sam replied as the blood froze in your veins. “I’m surprised that you didn’t get wind of it Bobby.”

“Well until I get a TARDIS of my own, I can’t be in every place at once.” Bobby answered evenly earning a snicker from Dean.

“Where exactly did you track the werewolf back to?” You asked as Sam opened his mouth to respond. You need to know how much the Winchester knew about the resident werewolf before you made your next move.

“There was an abandoned hunter’s cabin a couple miles into the northeast corner of the woods. We went into the cabin and were ambushed by the wolf. Dean managed to get a couple shots off before he got hurt.” Sam looked at you curiously.

“I’ll look into it.” You responded, making for the door. If Dean had been able to fire off some shots that could mean that… You bumped into something and you looked up to find Bobby blocking your way.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked with an eyebrow raised.

“To get the werewolf?” You answered slowly.

“No you ain’t. You look like a zombie from an eighties horror flick. You should take a nap and then deal with the werewolf. It won’t do you any good to be tripping on your own feet.” Bobby said and you gave him a worried look. Bobby knew the stakes and your trip to the ski resort couldn’t wait. You opened your mouth to argue when the realization came over you. Bobby knew that if you left now, the Winchesters would follow but if you went upstairs under the guise that you were going to sleep, you might be able to sneak out of the house. Brilliant man.

“Bobby. I am not a kid anymore and I don’t need to take naps.” You said with a hint of enmity towards his idea.

“At least take a shower. All that blood on your scrubs will bring the werewolf to you like a dog to a steak.” He said firmly and you let out a loud sigh before turned back towards the hall. As you passed an amused looking Dean, he gave you a wide grin.

“Why don’t you go sit down before Samsquanch has to pick you up off the floor. “ You snapped. Amidst the creaking of the stairs, you heard Dean say, “I like her. She called you Samsquanch.”

“Shut up.” Was Sam’s response.

You walked down the hallway and stepped into the bathroom to turn the shower on, not that you had the intention of using it. Carefully, you crept back into the hallway to your room, avoiding the spots where the floor would announce your presence. You closed your bedroom door quietly and immediately began to strip your clothes off before tossing them into the hamper in the corner. You glanced about the room taking in the immaculately clean and organized state of things and took a deep breath feeling a small amount of stress slip away. This was much better than the disorganized rooms that Bobby had downstairs. No matter how much you asked, begged and threatened Bobby, those rooms remained in their chaotic state. You rummaged through your drawers for some jeans, a t-shirt and hoodie and hurriedly put them on. You grabbed your hiking boots from their spot under the bed and carried them over to the open window. After making sure the safety was on, you tucked the gun into your belt and eased yourself over the ledge onto the roof of the porch. You crouched down and listened for any sound that might indicate that someone was outside. Tying your boot laces together, you hung them around your neck and began to creep to the edge to roof. Once the eaves trough was visible, you laid down on your stomach and lowered yourself until you found purchase on the painted railing of the porch. You moved with care as you jumped from the railing and into the long grass that Bobby hadn’t gotten around to cutting. Pulling on your boots, you moved in crouch towards the dusty Impala. You froze for a moment as Sam’s voice drifted through the kitchen window.

“We need to go after it. There is only one more night in the cycle and now that he knows he’s being hunted, he’ll make himself scarce.”

“You boys should leave the werewolf to __________. It’s speciality of hers.” Bobby suggested before setting something down on the table.

“If we go after him tonight, we might a chance to gank him and I make a pretty tempting target.” Dean sided with his brother.

“She’ll wring my neck if I let you out after she patched you up.” Bobby admonished. “Think of the scariest thing you boys have been up against and then double it. That’s _________ when you disobey bedrest orders.”

“C’mon Bobby. She can’t be that scary.” Dean scoffed

You felt a smile lift the corner of your lips as you continued to the car.

 _If luck is with me, the door won’t be locked._   You hoped fervently. Once you reached the car, you tugged the door handle on the driver side and it opened without protest. With a grin, you reached under the dash and popped the hood which released with a dull thunk. You counted to thirty before quietly closing the door and moved to the front of the car. The car wasn’t visible from the kitchen windows but you didn’t want to draw any attention to your movements so you squatted in front of the grill and reached up to unlatch the heavy metal hood. Your original thought was to disconnect the battery cables but you didn’t happen to have a ratchet on hand so you went for the next best thing. You reached towards the fuse panel and popped out the ignition fuse with a little grimace before pocketing it. It would slow the Winchesters down a bit; Bobby would have to get another fuse from the garage and knowing Bobby, he would do his best to be unable to locate them.  You closed the hood and applied enough pressure for it to latch.

 _No tamper evidence._ You thought as you stole across the laneway and climbed into your jeep. Unfortunately, you had never been one for quiet vehicles and as you turned the key, the engine announced your intentions. You threw the vehicle into reverse and stepped on the accelerator sending a shower of gravel towards the house. Glancing back at the house, you caught a glimpse of the taller Winchester standing in the front door looking surprise.

*********

Sam walked back down the hallway towards where his brother and surrogate father sat nursing beers.

“She made a run for it?” Bobby guessed although he didn’t sound surprised. When Sam confirmed it, Bobby nodded and emptied his beer. He watched Sam as the boy stood staring at the door. It wasn’t hard to guess Sam’s intention.

“You want to go after her.” Bobby said, setting the bottle back on the table.

“She’s going to get herself killed. The moon is going to come in a couple hours and...”

“Look Sam. That girl has more brains than most and she ain’t heading into a fight emptied handed.” Bobby interrupted not sure how much information he should share about your relationship with the werewolf not that it would change Sam’s disposition. He watched as the muscle in Sam’s jaw twitch as he looked out the window.

“Even the best hunters could use back up.” Sam muttered. Bobby glanced at Dean who was sitting in a stupor, picking at the label on his beer. Dean wasn’t fit to walk into the living room never mind go on a hunt but Bobby knew that wherever Sam went, Dean would stumble behind.

“I ain’t stopping you boy but if you’re going you best get at it.” Bobby commented, “And knowing _________, she’ll probably have tinkered with the Impala to stop you from following her.”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean said loudly, slapping the table before his chair scraped against the floor as pushed back his chair. As the Winchester boys hurried from the room, Bobby grinned and took one last swig of his beer before following them.

**********

You were panting slightly as you tried to navigate your way through the thick underbrush that was determined to trip you. The light under the immense leaf canopy was fading quickly causing the shadows to creep out of their hiding places. You would have taken the short cut if you had been worried that the Winchesters wouldn’t be far behind you.

Finally you recognized the tree formation to your right and angled your course accordingly. Picking up the pace, you emerged into a clearing of sort. A small dilapidated cabin sat off to the side with smoke rising from the broken chimney.  A sense of relief filled you at the sight. If there was smoke, it meant that someone had recently fed the fire.

Pushing through the last of the long grass, you mounted the sagging porch steps which protested their use. You looked down and your sense of relief faded into dread. Drops of blood were scattered across the weathered, grey porch boards leading towards the door. Your eyes rested on the bloodied hand print that wrapped around the door frame. Glancing back at the deepening blue hues in the sky, you took a breath and slipped your large silver knife from its sheath, silently cursing your decision to leave you gun in the Jeep.

“Billy?” You called as you eased the ripped screen door open and stepped across the threshold. The cabin was dim with the exception of a fire that flickered in the far side of the room and you stood there for a moment to let your eyes adjust to the gloom.

“Billy?” You called again, making your way towards the couch that rested in the centre of the room. You knew that there was a lamp to the left couch and as you touched the base of the lamp, you felt something sticky coat your fingers. With a small shudder, you flicked the switch and the room came into focus. Billy wasn’t in sight. Wiping your hand on your jeans, you followed a dark smear of blood down the narrow hallway to door that stood slightly ajar.

“Billy?” You said softly as you pushed the door further open. A muffled groan sounded at your voice and you caught sight of red stain across the mattress. Tangled sheets hung of one side of the bed and you carefully advanced around the edge only to find a body slumped against the bed frame.

“Jesus Christ Billy!” You exclaimed dropping your knife as you knelt beside him. With a practiced eye, you began to assess the man in front of you. His breathing was shallow and rapid with a slight rattle as the air entered and exited his lungs. Judging by how much blood you saw on the way in, the injury was extensive. Although you already knew the answer, you placed your fingers on his neck, feeling the weak pulse beat against your fingers. Billy stirred at your touch and his eyelids lifted, revealing deep blue eyes. It pained you to see how dull the colour had become.

“Oh hey Dollface.” He said, the edge of his lips quirking up in a small smile. He struggled to pull himself in a more upright position and you quickly pressed him back down.

“Stop moving Billy.” You ordered as you efficiently unbuttoned the front of his plaid shirt. The white shirt underneath was soaked in blood but you could still see two entry wounds tightly grouped just under his rib cage. Without hesitation, you grabbed a spare shirt off the nearby dresser and pressed it against the wounds.

“Don’t bother doll. I’m done for.” Billy said quietly as he struggled to take a deep breath. A muscle in his face twitched as if even taking that breath was a battle.

“I can fix this. I might be able to heal…” You said desperately.

“You might be able to fix the bullet holes but you can’t change what I am.” Billy interrupted softly. When you opened your mouth to protest, Billy continued. “There might be a cure out there but it won’t be in my life time.”

You dropped your head in recognition of the truth in his words. You had spent the past months tracking down every piece of lore and scant information about werewolf cures you could but they all turned out to be false. You had tried using your strange healing powers but whatever had given you the power to heal never left an explanation on how your gift worked. Sometimes with enough concentration, you could will it to work like in the situation with Dean’s back and but sometimes a simple brush of a hand was enough to set the powers to work, sapping your own energy.  It made your job as a nurse rather difficult.

“Smile for me. It ain’t so bad.” He said as a small smirk lifted the corner of his mouth and caused a dimple to appear in his cheek. It was that little smile that had stolen your heart when you first met him in truck stop along I40.

“It’s not so bad?” You whispered, brushing your finger across his dimple. “Not so bad William Casey Johnson? You look like a used poster from a gun range. Why didn’t you call me?”

Billy managed a chuckle. “Because it was only a matter time before hunters came after me.” He grunted as you applied a little more pressure to his wounds.  “The smell of blood was getting too tempting.”

Fat tears began to roll silently down your cheeks and there was nothing you could do to stop them.

“Hey. When I got bit, I agreed to try. I was being selfish. I had wanted to keep you for another couple months. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone and I worked really hard to crack through that wall of yours.”

You let out a quiet laugh and felt a blush rising in your face at the memories of his often humorous attempts to draw you out of yourself.

“You were the biggest pain in my ass and I wouldn’t have it any other way Doll face.” You watched as Billy used the last of his waning strength to reached up and place his hand on your cheek. You clung to it, praying, pleading with any and all high powers to save Billy. In the overbearing silence of the room, you heard Billy’s breathing begin to crackle and pop as the fluid in his lungs shifted. The death rattle.

“Do one thing for me.” His voice was no louder than a whisper as his strength finally failed him.

“Anything Lumberjack.” You said, gazing into his beautiful eyes for the last time.

“Finish that car of yours and when you take her out the first time play my favourite song.” He coughed weakly and his eyes slid shut.

“Promise.” You whispered as the muscles in his hand slackened and his breathing slowed and stopped. Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as you reached to smooth his dark unruly curls from his face for the last time. “First ride is yours Billy.” You studied the features of his face, memorizing the faint wrinkles in his forehead, the nose that was just a little too wide for his face, his dark lashes that were the longest you had ever seen and the neatly trimmed beard that adorned his strong jaw. You tried to recall his laughter but the sound of his final breath echoed in your ears.

“I’m sorry.” A voice said, startling you out of your thoughts. You looked towards the door to find the younger Winchester looming in the doorframe. Anger and hatred roiled in your gut and your hand tightened into a fist.

“If you think that an apology will make this situation any better, cause it won’t” You said, voice thick with emotions. “Do you honestly think that Bobby and I would let a werewolf live so close to us if we didn’t have a good reason?”  You asked as you got up from the floor.

“We didn’t know.” Sam replied quietly and although you couldn’t make out the features on his face, you could hear the guilt in his voice.

“That doesn’t bring him back now does it?” You threw back at him and he flinched at the animosity in your voice. You scooped up your knife and thrust it into its sheath before pushing past him into the hallway.

“Is everything all good?” Dean asked, looking very pale as he leaned up against the corner, flipping through a magazine.

“You brought Sliced and Diced with you?” You stopped in tracks and turned to stare at Sam with horror.

“I guess not.” Dean muttered as he hurriedly looked back down at his reading material.

“Look he was going to follow me anyway.” Sam replied as he followed you to the living room, his hands spread in a gesture of helplessness.

“You’re like eight feet tall and he is recovering from an injury. Why didn’t you strap him to the bloody bed before you left?” You shouted.

“Are you sure that you’re not hitting on me?” Dean commented attempting to lighten the mood. You looked at Dean with annoyance.

“Shut up Dean.” You and Sam said at the same time. You turned back to continue to berate Sam when the words failed you and your eyes widened. Behind Sam was the very man you had just said goodbye to, moving quietly down the hallway. Only this wasn’t Billy. This man had a strange, feral light in his eyes and a mouth full of sharp teeth. You watched as Billy stalked down the hallway in the same manner a predator hunts unsuspecting prey. Sam caught sight of your face and turned only to be grabbed and thrown down the narrow hallway. He landed with loud thud and didn’t move.

“Hey!” Dean exclaimed tossing aside the magazine and pulled a knife from his jacket, the silver glinting in the moonlight that filled the cabin’s main room. Things began to move in slow motion. As Dean thrust the knife downwards, Billy caught Dean’s arm and twisted it behind him. Fangs glistened with in his mouth as he bent forward to bite through Dean’s thick neck muscles.

“Oh I didn’t patch him up so you could turn him.” You muttered to yourself as you took out your knife. You pulled up the sleeve of your hoodie and pressed the blade into your skin, wincing at the pain. “Billy!” You called, brandishing your arm. “Order’s up. Come and get it.”

Billy paused and sniffed the air. His pupils dilated at the metallic scent that hung in the air. Billy tossed the struggling Dean aside, sending him crashing into the coffee table. You turned and ran for the door with the intention of drawing him away from the Winchesters but you didn’t account for his inhuman speed. You reached the door but when you turned to call Billy, he was standing right behind you, growling softly. You stumbled backwards in surprise and lost your footing, hitting your wrist off the door frame as you fell. Your sight darkened as your head collided with the wooden planks of the porch. When your vision cleared, Billy was standing over you with a cruel grin on his face, the moon illuminating the sharp points of his fangs.

“Billy. Don’t do this.” You said fearfully. “Fight it. Please.”

With a laugh, Billy straddled you, pinning your arms with his knees. You twisted and turned attempting to throw him off of you but you weren’t strong enough.

 “Nothing to fight.” He whispered with malicious glee. “I am whole.”

A gun fired several times and Billy looked down in shock as fresh blood blossomed on the front of his shirt. Billy let out a howl full of pain, twisting in agony as the silver worked its peculiar magic. The eerie blue light faded from his eyes and the muscles in his body went limp. Billy slumped to the side, freeing one of your arm and allowing you to push him off of you. Lifting your head up, you caught sight of Sam panting heavily, still laying on the floor, a gun in his hand.

You dropped you head back down and took a shaky breath to try and slow your heart rate. The stars were visible between the cracks in the porch roof and you took a deep breath for each one you saw.

_One, breathe, two, breathe, three, breathe._

Finally you felt heart settled back into its regular rhythm and you rolled away from Billy’s body in a move to get up. Your wrist screamed in protest as you put your body weight on it and your vision swam at the sudden movement.

_Great. Definite concussion and possible break. I wonder what excuse I can give work now._

 By the time you regained your feet, you could hear movement in the cabin. Stepping into the door, you saw Sam helping Dean untangle himself from the coffee table. Dean muttered something to Sam and they both looked in your direction with unreadable expressions. Feeling uncomfortable, you looked around the cabin, trying to avoid thinking of anything but the dead werewolf lying in a coagulating pool of blood. Your eyes slid past the framed pictures on the wall of you and Billy, the memorabilia scattered across the top of the mantle and finally rested on the CB radio tucked into a corner. The sight of it filled you with dread. You were going to have to contact Billy’s organization and make them aware of his death and you knew that certain people were not going to be pleased.

With shaking knees, you crossed the cabin and stopped in front of the CB, a hesitant hand outstretched for it. In your peripheral, you saw Sam carrying some white sheets.

“What are you doing?” You asked with alarm.

“We are going to give him a hunter’s funeral.” Dean replied pushing himself off the wall he had been leaning against to follow his brother.

“No!” You shouted, halting the brothers in their tracks. The Winchesters regarded you with confusion. “I mean he should have one but it won’t be here.”

“There is no vehicle for miles around and we aren’t hauling his body through the bush in the dark.” Dean pointed out.”

“I know.” You said quietly, “But there are some people that I have to call that will come and pick up Billy.” You turned back to the radio and switched it on. “Let’s just pray the boss man is in a good mood.” You mumbled to yourself. The CB crackled into life and the room was immediately filled with the gruff chatter of truckers. You turned the knob to a different channel and the noise died away as quickly as it began. Picking up the microphone, you pushed down the talk button and put out a call.

“This is Southern Healer. Anyone from NHAT got their ears on?”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought. :)


	3. A Terrible Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well this has been sitting on my computer for months, unfinished. But here is the next installment of The Beginning of the End. Enjoy!

The cabin was silent with the exception of the faint crackling that came from the CB radio. You busied yourself by studying a crack in the plaster that started from the ceiling and disappeared behind the desk. There was a large framed picture of Billy’s big rig, a metallic black beast with orange fenders and extended hood, the Peterbilt name glinting in the sun. There were a lot of memories created both the front seats and the bunk in the back. You shivered slightly as your skin recalled the feeling of Billy’s fingers ghosting down your arm. Blinking back tears, you tore your eyes away from the picture and finished following the crack down to the cluttered desk, where the green light from the radio illuminated the pens, papers and mementos with an eerie glow. You could feel the stares from the men standing behind you, boring into your back. Taking a quick glance back, you saw the quizzical look in Sam’s eyes and the tired irritation that had etched itself on to Dean’s face.

_Come on. Come on. Someone’s got to be in the area._ You thought impatiently, resisting the urge to tap your foot. A floorboard creaked as one of the brothers shifted their weight. You could hear a murmured exchange and a gusty sigh.

“_______.” Sam said quietly. “What’s…”

“Please don’t ask me.” You cut him off as you turned to look at him. “I just can’t answer that now.”

“Is it some of type of cult?” Dean asked. “I bet it’s a cult or...”

“It’s not a cult. It’s...” You trailed off, as a deep voice resonated through the speakers.

“This is Samson. Go ahead Southern Healer.”

You let out a little sigh of relief as you reached for the microphone. Samson had always been friendly with you and he knew the circumstances around Billy’s unfortunate encounter with the werewolf.

“Samson...” You started but hesitated because the words you were about to utter would bring finality to the situation that you just weren’t ready to admit.  Summoning what was left of your strength, you pressed down the button again. “Billy’s gone. “

There was a long pause before what sounded like static came through the speaker. “The Lumberjack has felled his last tree.” He confirmed.

“Yes. I am requesting a 10-16 at the turnoff for Great Bear Recreational Park. Take the gravel to the end. There’s enough space to turn that K-Whopper you’re driving around. “

“10-16?” You saw Dean mouth to Sam. “K-Whopper?” Sam shrugged his shoulders in confusion.

“Copy that. ETA is 40 minutes.” Samson replied.

“We’re going to need help to move him. We’re damaged goods here.” You said as you considered the condition of both Winchesters as well as yourself. No one was in a state to carry Billy the two miles back to the pickup point

“10-4.”

With a shaking hand, you placed the microphone back in its cradle with a click. Unspoken questions hung heavily in the air and you took a deep breath before turning to face Sam and Dean. Perhaps too quickly as you began to fall forward; the relays between your muscles and brain functioning far slower than you would have liked.

 Sam’s hands appeared on your shoulders and steadied you.

“Maybe you should sit down.”  He suggested as he guided you to the couch. You shrugged off his hands “Please stop touching me.” You hissed.

“Would you rather I let you fall on your face?” Sam retorted, annoyance surfacing in his voice.

You opened your mouth to protest but closed it again, biting back a response. Twice Sam has saved you from face planting on the floor today. With a sigh, you sank into the couch cushions and shut your eyes. This day had been among the worst days in your life. Billy was dead, shot by the man who, if your vision was to be believed, would become your future husband and father to your children. Your magic or your curse decided that today would be the day that you could heal everyone; Sam, Dean, Mrs. Rodriguez but not the man you loved.  Your head was beginning to ache abdominally and your wrist throbbed with your heartbeat. To top it off, you were stuck in a cabin with the brothers who set all these events in motion. Tears began to prick your eyes but you stubbornly refused to let them fall as you turned your thoughts to how you were going to get everyone from the cabin back home.

You were in no condition to walk at the moment unless you leaned on one of the Winchesters. Before you could accomplish this, you need to stabilize your wrist and reduce your migraine. Opening your eyes slightly, you reached up and turned the lamp off, the glare you were experiencing decreased by a fraction.

“Could one of you get some ice or something frozen from the freezer?” You asked sharply, “Please.” You quickly tacked onto the end, realizing how rude you sounded.  The floorboards creaked, a door opened and shut and something cold, a bag of frozen vegetables by the feel, was placed in your hand. You yelped at the spike in pain as your wrist struggled to hold the weight.

“Err…sorry.” Sam said apologetically, his voice floating down to your ears. He carefully took the bag and set it in your other hand. Placing the vegetables on your neck, you started to think about how nice a bed would be at the moment.

_No!_ _Focus!_ You shook yourself mentally.

“There is a first aid kit in the bathroom closet. A big white one, can’t miss it. I am going to need something to wrap my wrist.” You said. The looming presence in front of you disappeared. “Dean? Still breathing?”

“Yeah.” Dean grunted.

“Good. I want to have a look at your back before you do anything else.” You replied.

‘It’s fine.” Dean said and you read the stubbornness in his voice.

“Just like I’m fine.” You stated evenly. “Can I just make sure that you’re not bleeding? With the amount of blood loss you experienced today, I am surprised that you are still standing.

“I’m walking miracle.” Dean said sarcastically but he came to stand in front of you. Carefully you opened your eyes and resisted the urge to close them again as wave of nausea caused your stomach to flip flop. Scanning the back of his shirt, you noticed that there were small patches of blood but none that were overly concerning.

“Looks good enough. “ You commented. “Would you be up to finding Samson and bringing him back here?”

Dean turned to look at you with surprise. “You want me to find my way through unfamiliar woods and then back again, the second time with a bible thumper?”

“Well it’s either you or Sam. I would go but I doubt I would make it to door. Besides, something tells me that you came into the park through the main entrance. Same place that Samson will be coming in. Find your car and you’ll find Samson.” You said plainly. Dean looked at Sam as he returned the living room with the first kit in hand and nodded tersely.

“I’ll go.”

“Where are you going?” Sam asked, setting the kit on the couch beside you.

“To find bible man and bring him back here.” Dean replied.

“No Dean.” Sam protested. “You are were just ripped open by a werewolf, lost a ton of blood and tossed around like a chew toy. Don’t you think that is enough for one day?” 

“Thanks for the reminder.” Dean said with a grimace. “I’ll be back before you know it.” He walked over to the counter and collected his flashlight and gun before heading out the door.

“I’ve heard that one before.” Sam muttered to himself as he watched his brother disappear into the night.

“Dean should be fine.” You murmured, struggling to keep your eyes open. The couch shifted as Sam sat down beside you and there was a sharp pop as he opened the first aid kit.

“How’s the wrist feeling?” Sam asked as he rustled through the kit’s contents.

“Shitty.” You responded without thinking, earning chuckle from Sam. Had you been in your right state of mind, you would have put on a brave face and lied about the pain you were experiencing but right now your thoughts were moving from coherent to hazy.

“Where does it feel the worst?” He asked, gingerly lifting your arm and placing a pillow underneath it.

“Just below where the Medial Ligament joins up with the Ulna.” You replied, your voice sounding distant to your own ears.

“So here.” Sam placed a gentle finger to the spot you mentioned. Shock brought you out of your stupor.

“How did you know that?” You asked quietly, adjusting your arm slightly as Sam slid the wooden board underneath it , making sure it extended past your fingers.

Sam scoffed, “When you do the stuff that Dean and I do, it makes it easier to know some medical jargon.”

“So naturally you learned the names of both the bones and the ligaments in the wrist.” You joked.

“Naturally.” A small smile turned up the corners of Sam’s mouth as he reached for the heavy cloth strips. “This might hurt a little.” He added as he tied the board in place. You winced as he tightened the knot near your wrist.

“So why hunt?” You asked. “Why not go to university? You seem smart enough.”

Sam froze for a moment and from what you could see of his face, this was a sore point. He finished stabilizing your wrist before closing up the first aid kit.

“I’ll go…uh… put this away.” Sam said with an uneasy smile, before standing up and quickly leaving the room.  A thought occurred to you but it slipped away as your eyes closed.

***********

Hushed voices stirred you from your pain induced sleep.

“You got him all wrapped up did you?” A gruff voice asked. You heard a low whistle as porch creaked. “Did she put him down?”

“No.” Someone responded. The porch creaked again as the men stood silently for a minute.

“How is she doing?” The gruff voice asked again.

“Sleeping.” Came the reply. Footsteps crossed the room and you sensed that someone had crouched down in front of you. After a struggle to open your eyes, you saw a large man in front of you. It was hard to make out his features but the wide nose and jaw told you that it was Samson.

“Hey girlie.” He said his rough voice no more than a whisper.

“Samson.” You tried to sit up as pain surged through both arms. Two large hands pushed down on your shoulders, preventing you from moving.

“The Winchesters eh?” He said with a chuckle.

“I didn’t choose them.” You mumbled. “They followed me here.”

“Looks like it was a good thing. Otherwise you would have been more than damaged goods.” What looked to be a grimace adorned his face. He glanced behind you before returning his gaze to you. The grimace turned to a look of regret.

“Listen girlie. As much you have every right to escort Billy to Sky’s End, I don’t think that is the best idea.” Samson said. He was about to go on when you interrupted him.

“I am going with you.” You shrugged his hands off your shoulders and tried once again to sit up. The bag of lukewarm and now mushy vegetables slid from your neck and landed somewhere on the couch. Your head began to pound with the beginnings of an intense migraine. Hands from behind pushed you back down.

“Woah, woah.” Dean voice floated down to your ears. “Take it easy.”

You gritted your teeth. “Get off!” you growled. “I am going with Samson!”

“You’re not coming girlie.” Samson said firmly. “The only place you are going is to the hospital. Sam and Dean are going to take you there.” Samson glanced down at the floor but when he looked up again, there was conviction in his eyes.  “You are staying. Listen the Boss Man will be out for blood when Billy gets home, you being around will only make it worse. I don’t want you to end up like my Delilah.”

Your struggles came to a halt as your eyes filled with tears. “Samson please.”

Samson shook his head once more and pushed his large frame to his feet. “Good-bye Southern Healer. May the road rise up to you. Sam is it? Give me a hand will ya?”

As Samson’s and Sam’s footsteps retreated to the door, you began to struggle harder against Dean’s hands.

“Take your hands off of me! I need to go!” As you shouted and twisted, the pain from your injuries grew but the idea of inability to properly say good-bye to Billy hurt much more.

“Listen sweetheart. You make it to the door without scrubbing the floor with your face, I won’t stop you from climbing into Bible man’s truck.” Dean said, removing his hands.

_Make it to the door?_ You thought. _I can do this. At least I hope I can…_

You awkwardly rolled off the couch and on to your feet. With a deep breath, you slowly climbed to your feet. Using your better hand to steady yourself, you navigated around the couch and side table.  Allowing yourself a small smile, you glanced up to find that there was nothing to lean on reach the door.

_I can do this._

You took one step and then another as a wave of nausea washed over you. You squeezed your eyes shut and took another step. The nausea got worse and your stomach heaved.  Sinking to your knees with a loud groan, you emptied the contents of your stomach on the floor.

“Hospital is it.” Dean muttered as he pulled you off the floor.  Slipping an arm around your waist, Dean escorted you from the cabin despite your weak protests.  You trudged half-slumped through the long grass, vaguely registering that it was brushing against your jeans, eyes squinting in the moonlight. The meadow gave way to the towering trees and thick underbrush of the surrounding forest.  You were so exhausted and filled with pain and grief that the only thing you could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other. Every snapping twig and crackle of leaves underfoot rang loudly in your ears.  Dean cursed as his breathing became more ragged. Eventually, Dean stopped and if he hadn’t a firm grip on your waist, you would have fallen.

“I freaking hate the woods.” He said to himself as he glanced about him, getting his bearings. “C’mon.” Dean said a little louder, readjusting his hold on your waist. “We are almost there.”

By the time, you had reached the parking lot, Samson was swinging the doors to his trailer closed. With a cry of anguish, you mustered what was left of your energy and took several stumbling steps forward, Dean’s shouts muted. Samson looked back at sound and you imagined a look of sadness passed over his face as he fastened the padlock. With long strides, Samson reached the door of his big rig and climbed in. Still you managed to keep going forward. There was a loud rumble as the truck roared into life. Nearly to the cab.

The lights that lined the trailers and the side runners of the truck blinked into life. A hiss of air told you the air brake had been released and the truck jumped forward.

“No!” You screamed, your head exploding in pain at the effort. You willed your feet to move faster but it felt like you were wading through quicksand. Strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, trapping you, keeping you from the moving truck, preventing you from saying goodbye to Billy.

Blindly you turned, still screaming and attempted to hit whichever brother was restraining you. A fist connected with something solid.  A grunt of pain told you it was a good hit. The pain that travelled up your arm told you that your body had had enough and everything went black.

*******

Sam and Dean looked up as Bobby entered the waiting room.  He nodded in their direction before going to talk to the nurse on duty.

Sam slid forward on the plastic hospital chair in attempt to ease some of his discomfort. His jaw ached terribly where you had punched him and he knew that in the morning there would be some nice bruises forming where he collided with the wall.

“Check out that nurse.” Dean elbowed him and discreetly pointed in her direction.

Sam sat up a little straighter and glanced over the heads of the other people in the waiting room to where Dean was looking. A tall, thin nurse with a blonde ponytail was bent over talking to a patient. Sam caught sight of a bit of stumble on the nurse’s chin

 “I think that’s a dude.” Sam laughed, slumping back into the hard plastic chair.

“Can’t be.” Dean said, straining his eyes. “I am going to go get her number.”

“Good luck.” Sam laughed as his brother slipped from the chair and limped over to where the nurse stood. He could see Dean put on a winning smile and said something;  a cheesy pick line involving a stethoscope and his heart beat. Sam snorted in laughter and caused quite a few people to stare at him as the smile quickly disappeared from Dean’s face.  He looked over at Sam helplessly as the nurse directed him to sit down in an empty chair.

Sam shot Dean a smug grin before looking back to find Bobby striding in his direction.

“Hell of a bruise you got on your chin kid.”  Bobby asked taking Dean’s vacant chair. Sam wondered what it looked it if Bobby noticed it already, it certainly hurt enough.

“How is she?” Sam asked, concerned. Despite how hostile she had been at Bobby’s and again at the cabin, Sam felt drawn to her.

“Doc says that she will be alright though she will be off work for some time. She ain’t going to be happy about it.” A grimace passed over Bobby’s facial feature.

“It can’t be that bad Bobby.” Sam scoffed but the look that Bobby gave him made Sam wonder just how bad it was. Sam and Bobby sat silently for a minute before Bobby cleared his throat.

“Doc’s going to keep her overnight.” Bobby said, “Let’s go rescue your brother and maybe on the ride home, you can fill me in on the details.” Bobby stood with a groan. Sam followed suit although a little more stiffly.

“I’ve got some questions.” Sam started.

“You always do Sam.” Bobby chuckled. A sheepish grin broke on Sam’s face as they went to find Dean.

***********

Once the Winchesters and Bobby were settled around the kitchen table, Sam and Dean filled Bobby in on what had transpired in the cabin.

“What I don’t get is why Billy didn’t kick the bucket the first time you shot him Dean.” Bobby said, stumped. A faint blush coloured Dean’s pale cheeks.

“I forgot to change the clip when we left car.” Dean mumbled, picking at the label on his beer. Bobby could see the guilt on his tired face and didn’t press the matter any further. Normally, he would have royally cussed the boy inside and out but after the day they had all been through, Bobby thought better of it.

Silence fell over the table as each man withdrew into their own thoughts. Bobby glanced around the table at the faces of the boys he had unofficially adopted.  The frown on Dean’s face indicated that he was already berating himself for not checking his weapon and Sam squirmed in his chair, a look of curiosity in his hazel eyes.

“Out with it Sam before you pop.” Bobby said with a sigh. He leaned back in his chair, knowing that Sam’s curiosity would lead to a long line of questioning that would take most of the night. A look of embarrassment adorned Sam’s features.

“___________ using a CB radio, looking for someone from NHAT. What exactly is NHAT?” Sam asked as curiosity replaced the embarrassment.

Bobby glanced at both boys before answering. “NHAT stands for National Hunters Association of Truckers. They are a pretty secretive group made up of some meanest and toughest SOBs you’ll ever meet.”

“Huh.” Sam leaned back in his chair. “And __________and Billy were members?”

“Billy was a full member, born and bred into the life. __________ was tolerated because Billy was the kid brother of the guy who runs the operation.” Sam’s eyebrows rose at this information.

“The trucker that came to get Billy’s body mentioned a Boss Man and said he would be out for blood.” Sam told Bobby. Bobby’s brow furrowed as concern grew in his eyes.

“Boss Man was Billy’s older brother, a guy by the name of James Johnson. A little unstable if you ask me.”

“What exactly does these hunter truckers do?” Dean asked, finally drawn into the conversation.

“Same thing damn thing we do on a much bigger scale. Better funded too.” Bobby replied. He took a sip of his beer as Sam fired another question at him.

“How are they funded?”

Bobby shrugged, “Billy was never really clear about it. I looked into it and came up with a fist full of dead ends. Whoever is in charge of covering up their business know what they’re doing.”

“Surely there must be some sort of trail you could follow.” Sam protested.

“If you want to look into it, be my guest but the less interactions you have with these guys, the better. Believe me Sam, they are not people you want to tangle with.” Bobby warned.

“How did __________ get mixed up with them?” Dean asked. Bobby regarded him for a minute as he considered his response.

“She wasn’t the easiest kid to have around the house. That kid had more anger inside her than the Hulk and Rage combined. She had a tendency to take off. She had been missing for days when I get call from a guy named Billy saying that he had _________ with him and was bringing her home.”

“That sounds a little weird.” Dean commented.

Bobby snorted, “Ya think? But he showed up on my doorstep a couple days later. I opened the door with the full intention of blasting his ass full of rock salt but he had ____________ slung over his shoulder as she cussed him up and down.”

“What did you do Bobby?” Sam prompted when Bobby fell silent.

“Offered the poor man a beer.” Bobby said with a reminiscent smile. “Billy stuck around and it did her a world of good.”

 “Wait. You said that she lived you when she was a kid. How come we didn’t know about her?” Sam questioned, his eyebrows drawn together as he tried to remember if he had ever noticed you.

“She fell into my lap a couple months after your dad took you boys and disappeared into the wind.” Bobby offered as an explanation. Sam waited for him to continue but Bobby drained the last of his beer and stood up, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Time to hit the hay. See you boys in the morning.”

“Did you get the sense that Bobby is keeping something from us?” Sam asked after their adoptive father disappeared up the stairs.

“We all have secrets Sammy.” Dean replied as he clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. He grabbed another beer from the fridge and left Sam sitting at the table, alone with his thoughts.

***********

You eased yourself out of the hospital bed, careful not to make any noise. The night nurse had just stopped in to make sure that you were where you should be. You feigned sleep until you heard the faint squeak of her shoes retreat into the hallway.

_I am not staying here. I need to get to Billy_.

The drugs the doctors had ordered for you reduced both your migraine and throb in your wrist to a dull ache. The plaster cast on your arm felt heavy, foreign as it restricted your movements and protected the broken bone underneath. You glanced at your other arm to find several stitches closing the cut you had made to tempt Billy away from Dean.

_A little bit of overkill_. You thought. _The cut wasn’t that deep._

You looked around the darkened room for clothes or a bag, thinking that Bobby would have brought something for you but there was nothing. Suddenly light flooded the room as the door swung opened. You blink in the sudden onslaught of light to find a tall silhouette in door.

_Winchester._

“What do you want Samsquanch?” You jeered, knowing that with his appearance, the likeliness of your escape faded.

“I was worried about you.” Sam sounded genuine but he was the whole reason you were in the hospital in the first place.

“I can’t believe they let you in after visiting around. Who’s working the front desk?” You demanded, indignant that he was standing in your room.

“Bobby has you tagged as a flight risk.” Sam shrugged. “Plus I signed in. Got a visitor badge and all.”

_Damn. Damn. Damn._

“So were you just heading the bathroom or getting back into bed?” By the tone of Sam’s voice, he knew that you hadn’t planned on doing either. Grumbling, you climbed back into bed as  Sam settled himself into the arm chair that had been tucked into a corner.

Despite your intentions of waiting Sam out, you fell into the first deep and dreamless sleep you had had in awhile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment and let me know you think.


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